Hitting the Headlines
by SqutternutBosh
Summary: Gwen comes home after another long day at Torchwood, grateful of the respite of Rhys and the evening news. But what exactly are Jack and Ianto doing on television, on said evening news? One-shot.


A/N: Just a bit of a fun one-shot, not really sure where it came from, just got weirdly inspired when I saw a bit of the news… Oh, post Exit-Wounds, but not really relevant.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Torchwood. Or Sian Lloyd or Derek the weatherman, they are their own people. I also don't own BBC Wales, but weirdly enough, they have some sort of ownership over Torchwood… Strange old world, isn't it?

…*…

It had been a long day; Gwen sighed as she turned her key in the door to her apartment. The lock mechanism caught slightly and she had to shimmy it open with her shoulder, nudging it with just enough force so that she staggered through the resulting entrance like a bleary drunk. She grabbed until the door handle and blew her fringe out of her eyes, looking through the dark swathe of hair at Rhys, who was craning his neck over the top of the sofa to watch her. Gwen doubted he could see her properly. The television screen flickered in the background.

'Didn't think they let you drink at work,' he commented blithely, turning his head back to the screen. Gwen relinquished her grip on the door handle and kicked the door shut with her heel.

'That door keeps jamming,' she told him, tossing her keys onto the side board as she slid out of her jacket. 'It needs fixing.'

'I'll take a look at it on the weekend or something.'

Gwen toed off her boots and collapsed back gratefully onto the sofa, closing her eyes as she rested her head against the soft and malleable cushions, into the familiar imprint her body had worn into the much-used piece of furniture. She felt Rhys' arm creep gently behind her neck, coming to rest on her shoulder. Letting out a sound of contentment, Gwen leaned into his reassuring warmth, eyes still closed, the sounds of Rhys' steady breathing and the BBC Wales news headlines washing over her.

'_Good evening, I'm Sian Lloyd, welcome to BBC Wales Today. The headlines this evening…'_

'Busy day?' Rhys asked softly.

'Mhmm,' Gwen murmured. She took in a deep breath, just allowing herself to relax after a very strange and hectic day. 'Nothing major,' she continued slowly, lazily. 'No city wide panic, just a bit of a Hub panic… Scavenged a bit of alien tech yesterday, didn't know what it was, still don't really…' She yawned. 'Anyway, Ianto was archiving it and it sort of… exploded. Singed his eyebrows a bit, and his eyes kept changing colour…'

Rhys chuckled and Gwen dug her fingers into his ribs gently.

'Ianto was definitely not amused, trust me. Honestly, his eyes were going from pink, to red, to green, to blue and then purple on and off every couple of seconds. They didn't even match most of the time! So we were trawling through the databases for a while, trying to find the solution and when Jack finally did, Myfanwy-,'

'Who?'

'Myfanwy. The pterodactyl.'

'Oh, right, of course,' Rhys muttered, with a sarcastic head bob.

'Yes, of course,' Gwen smiled. 'Yeah, well, she's getting old, and she had a bit of a fall. Crashed a load of the computers, and Jack lost the information he'd found cos the power outed a bit… Then that device exploded again and _all _of our eyes kept changing colour, which is immensely distracting when you're trying to coax an injured pterodactyl up into her nest so you can start fixing the semi-sentient mainframe..'

'_Semi- what_?' Rhys exclaimed, only now ungluing his wide-eyes from the screen to look down at her.

'The computer,' Gwen mumbled. 'It's kind of alive… Sort of.'

'Riiight,' Rhys replied, eyes returning back to the television, which was now playing a story about the NHS. 'Take it you got the eye colour thing sorted then.'

'Eventually,' Gwen answered, opening her eyes to reveal the unchanging hazel irises. 'I could hardly have left the Hub if my eyes kept changing colour.'

'Hell of an ice-breaker at parties though.'

Gwen shifted against Rhys, appreciating his acceptance of the weird ins-and-outs of her work life, and sat up straighter, resting her head against his shoulder to watch the news. As the article on the changing face of the NHS wrapped up and returned to the female news reader at the desk, Gwen noticed something very odd in the background behind her.

Set up just behind the news desk was a screen, which displayed an image of Cardiff Bay, streamed live from a camera attached to an office building in the area. A seagull whipped past it at speed. In the brief moment the desk reporter was talking, Gwen could just see the red brick building of the Old Coal Exchange and further in the background, the St David's Hotel. She probably could've seen Torchwoods' tourist office front if she had squinted close enough. Unusually, for such a nice evening, there were few people about except for two, familiar, tall figures sprinting down the end of Roald Dahl Plass, chasing a third gangly and stooped figure.

Jack and Ianto. And a Weevil.

'Isn't that-?' Rhys started.

'Yep,' Gwen answered his unfinished question, mind already churning into action. This did not look good for Torchwoods' already weak 'undercover' status at all.

And then the screen changed as the programme continued into an article on rising gas and electric bills in Wales.

Rhys looked down at Gwen. 'Were they chasing one of those, oh, what d'you call 'ems?'

'Weevil. Yes. I wonder if they know they're on telly?'

Rhys laughed. 'Bet Jumping Jack Sprat would love that.'

The news article finished up quickly and returned to the news desk, but the presenter had her back to the camera, clearly watching intently as Jack and Ianto attempted to round up the stray Weevil. She jolted slightly as she realised that she was supposed to be speaking and rolled her chair to the side, as the camera zoomed out in order to get the entire background screen and presenter in shot.

'There appear to be,' the news reader started slowly, 'two- no, three?- Three men, one of which is wearing a mask, caught up in a fight right down on the Bay side…'

The shot changed, now just displaying a slightly blurry image of the live Bay feed. Gwen could see Jack, greatcoat flapping about his legs in the wind, wrestling with the Weevil, pinning its arms to its side. He was yelling at Ianto, Gwen could see his mouth moving, but the camera did not pick up sound- and he would've been too far away even if it did. Someone operating the camera in the control room zoomed the picture in, but things appeared more pixelated.

Gwen watched, mouth hanging open unattractively, as Ianto fumbled about in his pocket for something. He searched his outside jacket pocket, then inside, the trouser pockets, before checking his jacket pockets again, all while Jack struggled to retain his grip on the snarling and ferociously heaving alien creature. Ianto shrugged at Jack, who appeared to start yelling at the younger man again, his usual wide-armed gestures restricted to jerks of his broad shoulders, before Ianto seemed to be shouting _over _him.

Suddenly, the Weevil lashed out and Jack buckled over with a visible 'oof' as the air forcibly escaped his lungs. Ianto lunged forward, grabbing the Weevil by the scruff of the boiler suit, having to duck rapidly as the Weevil swung one of its brutal claws in his direction. He wrapped an arm tightly around its neck, being jostled from side to side as the Weevil continued to fight back. He was shouting at Jack, who was just recovering from being winded.

Jack straightened up again, jumping in to Ianto's rescue by deftly pulling his trusty Webley out of its holster.

'Oh no…' Gwen groaned. Jack had his gun out on national television. _Live _national television- before the watershed! This was not looking good.

A slightly panicked voice was now being overlayed across the image of Jack firing a shot into the shoulder of the Weevil. A barely visible, but chunky pixel of blood spurted out of its shoulder as it sagged against Ianto.

'Oh my god!' the voice of the news reader echoed over the shot. 'He shot him! That man just shot him! I'm getting reports in… Yes, yes, the police are on their way down to the scene right at this very minute… The nearest officers are about two minutes away…'

It was time to do something, Gwen decided, tearing her eyes from the screen as Jack shoved the injured Weevil up against the chains along the waterfront to sedate it. Ianto was stood by his side. He brushed one hand across his eyes wearily before they came to rest on his hips. Jack's tirade- evidently about something Ianto had forgotten- continued as Gwen fumbled in her trouser pocket to retrieve her mobile, flicking quickly through her contacts list. She pressed the call button as soon as the name she wanted was digitally highlighted.

It was amusing, in a strangely removed sort of way, as Gwen watched Ianto on screen pause a second before sliding a hand into his trouser pocket to take out his mobile as she listened to the dial tone connecting the two. On screen Jack threw a couple of words at Ianto as he answered and placed the phone against his ear.

'- really the time for phone calls,' Gwen was just able to catch the end of the sentence she'd just seen Jack direct at Ianto.

'Gwen?' Ianto's voice came through the tinny speaker. She almost laughed as she heard him and saw his lips form her name on screen. Rhys was watching her curiously.

'Uh, Ianto, I think you've got a bit of a situation,' she started. She thought she could see him frown with his alien-singed eyebrows, but then he turned on his heel so that his back was to the camera. Jack was cuffing the Weevil and placing a sackcloth bag over its head.

'What do you mean? Hang on- how do you- What?'

'You're on the telly. Six o clock news, you know the-,'

'Oh,' Ianto said blankly as realisation hit in. He froze for a moment on screen, before twisting, looking almost directly at the camera.

'How much did they see?' he asked after a moment.

'Everything- especially the part where Jack _shot _it.'

'Nooo…' Ianto's voice trailed off.

'Yep.'

'Kind've my fault, forgot the Weevil spray, Jack had to-,'

'But I see you've remembered your phone!' Jack's voice floated down the line. Gwen was still watching the pair on screen, like some sort of violent comedy sketch, the reporter still filling in the public on details she didn't really know. Ianto's eye roll in response to Jack's input wasn't visible, but Gwen knew it was there.

'The police are on their way,' she informed him as they both started to walk off screen. Whoever was in control of the camera zoomed back out in an attempt to keep his live and unexpected news story in shot. 'What're we going to do?'

'I don't- No, wait, I have an idea… Give us a couple of seconds, but you'll have to let me know if it works.'

'Ianto, what're you-,'

But he'd already hung up.

Gwen dropped her phone onto the coffee table. The news reporter was back on screen, still looking shocked.

'We apologise for that interruption, ladies and gentlemen, and any imagery that may have shocked the viewer,' her voice was a bit shaky. Nothing like this had ever happened live on BBC Wales before… 'That was, uh, we… No,' she seemed to squint at the auto cue, reading carefully, before a wobbly smile wound its way onto her face.

What had Ianto done?

'We have been informed,' the news reader continued, stronger now. 'That the footage we just streamed live from the Mermaid Quay water front area was, in fact, an act… Our producer has just been on the phone to one Mr Jones of Crime Awareness Wales, who called in to inform us that the "shock tactics" we just witnessed were an example of the violence that may be faced on the streets of the twenty-first century and that such drastic measures were taken by his charity group in order to make sure that we, the public, are ready…' the corners of her lips quirked up. 'I'm not sure about that, guns on the streets of Cardiff? What do you think Derek?'

'Well, I don't know about guns, Sian, but I can tell you that the streets of Cardiff will be seeing some rain tomorrow…'

Gwen reached out for her phone once again as Derek the weatherman continued with the weather report. She fired off a quick text to Ianto.

_Crisis averted._

She turned back to Rhys, who was reading the hastily typed message of apology from the BBC about the 'upsetting footage' that had been unexpectedly aired, along with the contact number of a hotline, for any viewers disturbed or upset by the 'scenes of violence'. She grinned up at him.

'So, how was your day?'

.

A/N: So, wha' d'ya think? Feasible? Hope you enjoyed!


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